Square One
by threadsofregret
Summary: Harry's back at Hogwarts for a highly unexpected reason. Draco's back too, for a Slytherin surprise. And Ginny's going mad because of them both. Who will she choose? Go back to square one to find out.
1. A Message

NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE. PLEASE LOOK. (11/9/06)

**Author's Note**: Ok, it's been a while. Actually…it's been a painfully long time. I've neglected you all cries. But the story wasn't making too much sense and had no real direction. Therefore, I am completely removing the first chapter. To tell the truth, I intended that to be a one-shot, but found it too short. In essence, I got too cocky and thought I could turn that kind of dramatic, dark encounter into a full-fledged, humorous (or at least, I hope so?) story. I can only wish that I invite more loyal readers/reviewers this time around, with little additions (aka major plot changes) and revisions. So for any new readers, ignore the author's note at the beginning and end of chapters 1 and 2…ok. Again, really sorry

**Disclaimer**: Daniel Radcliffe poster still tacked up in my room? Yes. Own Harry Potter? No.  
**Warning**: Unless you are very shy, this chapter should be no problem. Well…there's a bit of…_salty_ language and a compromising situation, but you'll be fine. After all, you did decide to read a rated "M" fic…or perhaps, you're just a poor kid that thought "M" meant 'Mermaid' or 'Marshmallow' or 'Magical Mickey Mouse.'

* * *

Chapter 1: A Message 

"Oy! You prat, get over here!" Ginny yelled to no one in particular, flopping herself on the plush sofa and listening to the Weird Sisters' Latest and Greatest hits on WWN. Automatically, four boys hurried into the room, not giving Ginny enough time to perform her infamous bat-bogey hex on a passing Weasley. Or Potter.

"No, no. Not you all. My boyfriend prat," she grunted, attempting to conceal a smile at the 'boyfriend' part of the sentence.

"You know, Gin," Fred started, giving his 'I'm going to say something so idiotic, it will be amusing' look, "If you're going to act like a troll, it's best not to smile. George and I once saw a smiling troll, and it definitely took away from the face value. Kind of makes you forget that you're standing in front of a thirty-foot creature with muscles the size of hippogriffs and a brain the size of a pistachio."

Ginny scowled. "Is that better?""

"No," countered George, "the troll didn't have red hair. It clashes horribly."

She swatted at her brothers as Harry strode into the living room, crooning to accompany the chorus of "Under Wraps," the number one hit of the year.

_Unwrap her, unwrap her, don't dread to unravel  
Her dead body soon will unwind.  
Each layer so effete, with parasites and dysentery  
She's haunting our eyes and our minds.  
_  
"Best keep that to yourself, dear," Molly Weasley chuckled slightly.

"Yeah, don't want to go scaring off all the kiddies. And gnomes," Ron said with an obvious snicker.

Harry threw a discarded Puking Pastille at him and missed, instead reaching over to put an arm around Ginny. The family sat comfortably together, taking no notice at Ginny's gradual hair-stroke or Harry's quick back-rub. The Weasleys had gotten used to this arrangement months before, when the witty banter between Harry and Ginny turned into idiotic grins and not-so-playful touching. The grandfather clock to the left of the sofa gleamed with careful polish and repeated wood-stain; six of the nine hands were pointed at 'home.'

"Big day tomorrow," yawned Mr. Weasley, "School shopping is past necessary. You lot better get to bed soon, we're going to be waking quite early so we can come back to the Burrow for a late lunch." Not one person budged. Even Pigwidgeon was sitting docile in his cage, hooting every so often for no reason at all.

"Come on, up you get!" ushered Mrs. Weasley, her permanent nagging-mother side kicking in after few moments of dormancy. "I don't want one complaint tomorrow, it's strictly Flourish and Blotts, the Apothecary, and Madame Malkin's…if you need anything, Harry dear."

Harry shook his head and smiled, knowing that in between these trips to 'two stores only' lay Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Eyelop's Owl Emporium, and now, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

He didn't dare tell the Weasleys that he wasn't planning to attend Hogwarts at all this year…to finish his N.E.W.T.s, win the Quidditch Cup for the fourth year in a row, earn the House Cup..gradu—he would miss Hogwarts graduation, something he had looked forward to for six years, since the first day Hagrid had broken into a tiny, dingy shack and told Harry that he was a wizard.

He couldn't bear to see their faces, _especially_ Ginny's, when he told them that he was not boarding the Hogwarts Express on September 1. The Weasleys were the only family Harry ever had, and he was lying to them and deserting them—his best friends, his girlfriend, and his surrogate parents.

_Maybe I shouldn't do this. I could find the horcruxes after Hogwarts and Ministry training…as an auror. But...—_Harry shook his head defiantly. The cause was worth it.

* * *

"Arghhhhhhhhhhhh, mum, go bloody away!" The patch-work quilt shifted, revealing a large, talking lump.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, if you use that language with me again, I'll force down an Acid Pop and curse your mouth shut so tightly that—" Mrs. Weasley began in a warning voice.

"I get it, I get it, I'm awake now! Why do we always have to floo? Why can't I side-along apparate with Harry?" Ginny complained, pushing off the down-comforter and tying her unruly hair into a messy ponytail. "Lot of good that Sleek-Eazy did. Now it's so straight that it's poking into the pillow." She grumbled, getting down from her bed and putting on a robe.

She bent to pick up a mussed towel from the ever-growing pile of garments assembled on her floors, tripped over an Owl Treat and hit her bedpost, finally landing with a thud on the floor. Ginny yelled in frustration and grimaced at Ron, who had ran from the shower to see what was going on. He burst out laughing and dodged the same Owl Treat, which was now flying through the air with great force.

"Settle down, you two," Mrs. Weasley idly, directing Ginny's clothing to the closet with her wand. "You know Harry can't apparate, he just turned seventeen last month. Floo is safer, and Tom is allowing us to use the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace. Poor dear, no one has time for a drink at the pub anymore—he's losing business. We'll get some scones and tea from there this morning. Ginevra, go wash up now. We need to leave at eight o'clock, on the dot." Wrapping her towel around her and throwing off her robe, Ginny stalked to the bathroom. _Blast, someone's in there. It's probably just Ron trying to have a go at me. _"GET OUT, RONALD! I need to shower, you git! Just because your filth cannot be washed off with one shower doesn't mean the rest of us—" she trailed off, seeing a very bewildered Ron in the hallway. Clearly, he was not in the bath. He shook his head and shut his door, violently drying his hair with a towel at the same time.  
Thirty seconds later, the bathroom door opened—revealing a boxer-clad, dripping-haired Harry Potter. He looked around indignantly, ready to row with whoever disturbed his hot shower. Upon noticing Ginny, however, he stared openly and gave an odd, dreamy sort of smile. It was then that Ginny suddenly realized she was wearing nothing but a towel. Horrified, she ran into the bathroom and attempted to shut the door as fast as possible, silently praying that none of her brothers saw the previous scene.

"Gin…Gin, it's okay. Let me come in," Harry coaxed patiently, feeling quite embarrassed himself. A small squeak emitted from the other side of the door, but it swung open nevertheless. He approached Ginny slowly, bracing her shoulders and caressing them at the same time. "Hey, you don't have to be shy, it's only us!" He said this with absolutely no conviction, and it was evident. Instead, he was staring at her. And apparently, Ginny was beginning to notice that Harry was two feet of fabric away from starkers. He was, quite simply, unbelievable— adorned with lean muscles from years of Seeking, soft, tanned skin covering his taut body in a way that clearly indicated rapid maturation. His clover-green eyes glowed in anticipation as Ginny ran a hand through messy, black hair. Harry shuddered, even from this minimal touch, and grasped her curvy hips in response. As he brought his lips down to hers, he lifted Ginny and pressed her body flush against the cold, bathroom tile. Her hands traveled down his body, feeling every crevice in this new territory and finally halting at the base of his stomach. Harry steadily lowered her towel, brushing the skin of her neck and chest with his lips. Ginny let out a soft moan and pulled Harry's head back up to hers, returning the favor.

"Harry, mate? Have you seen Ginny because I…" Ron looked up and positively shrieked.

"What…what …WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Harry instantly let go of Ginny and ran out of the bathroom, looking abashed.

"We _were_ snogging, until you came," Ginny retorted hotly, rubbing her backside from a second fall that morning. "And now you've scared Harry off. It's one thing to ruin your own love life, Ronald, but don't go sabotaging mine! He's your best mate, for goodness' sake!"

"That…that was not snogging. You were…you were…shagging?" Ron finished weakly, not sure how to react. A door slammed in his face.

* * *

After a quick breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron, the group made their way through an empty Diagon Alley, uncharacteristic even at this time of morning. Ever since the Dark Mark had last been conjured, the third time that very summer, Minister Scrimgeour had tightened security on all of the wizarding world and consequently, increased fear. The Ministry Pamphlets and notices on doors had progressively become more explicit and cautionary—now, simply bearing the suggestion to stay inside as much as possible. Harry scowled whenever he saw these; Scrimgeour obviously didn't realize that Voldemort could kill anywhere…even at the Ministry of Magic itself.

As planned, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley went to Madame Malkin's while the boys ventured toward Flourish and Blotts. As the morning went on, Ginny grew more impatient, finally lashing out as an assistant pricked her for the fifth time in one robe fitting. "Look, you tart, I've fallen twice today, been attacked by the biggest git of my six brothers, flooed here and got soot all over my face and hair, almost broke my teeth trying to eat a misplaced cinnamon stick in my scone, burned my tongue with _salty_ tea, and now, have been poked with a bloody pin five times. Don't you dare stick that thing anywhere near me again, otherwise I will personally pull your hair out: one strand at a time," Ginny fumed, turning a violent shade of red and squeezing the scone in her hand to a pulp. The shop girl looked very frightened and a little bit sick at the prospect of this, and immediately ran to the back room to fetch Madame Malkin.

"Well, well. It seems like the Weaslette has grown a backbone," drawled a nearby voice. It was so familiar—only a little deeper, that throaty, sarcastic, _sexy_ voice. _I know…it's—_Draco Malfoy appeared from behind a rack of Women's dress robes, complete with a smug look that evidently showed he had heard the whole…er…conversation between Ginny and the Madame Malkin's employee.

"Sod off, Malfoy, I'm having a bad enough morning as it is, I don't need you to make it worse," Ginny said in a tired voice. "And Ron," she added, not looking directly at him.His platinum blonde hair gleamed in the candle light of the store, and he smirked.

"Who said anything about 'making it worse'? I was simply admiring your pointedness and articulation. Nothing wrong with that, is there, Ms. Weasley?" Draco glanced over at the now weeping shop girl, now being patted and embraced by Madame Malkin. "She's quite irritating, isn't she? Great shag, but bloody fucking annoying. What a pity." He turned back to Ginny, who was determined not to look at him at all. "So, where's Saint Potter? Or should I say your sex slave, shag buddy, snog-ee?" Malfoy's smirk grew wider.

"We haven't had s—hang on, what about you? What, your Death Eater mates dropped you? Your little Dark Lord chucked you out of his fan club?" Ginny was annoyed, but moreso curious.

"That's none of your concern, Weaslette. Watch out, little girl, Potty, Mommy, and Daddy aren't here to save you."

Ginny finally looked at him, giving a steely glare to show she wasn't threatened. Nevertheless, she looked around the shop for anyone that she knew; Mrs. Weasley was nowhere in sight, having gone to the Spice Shop next door to stock up on cooking supplies. _Blast_, she thought, _how will I get out of this now? I don't even have my wand with me_. But Draco was already halfway out the door.

"Happy hunting, Little Red. I'll see you in September," he stalked out with a glance at Ginny and an evil grin.

* * *

As predicted, bags of much more than books, parchment, and potion supplies were strewn on the carpet of the Burrow's living room. It was the night before the gang was due back at Hogwarts, and it was an understatement to say that nobody was excited for school. Fred and George had apparated in, bringing goods from their shop to commemorate Ron and Harry's seventh year. 

"Remember, hit Filch with a load of these when you're under the Invisibility cloak," Fred reminded them, shoving over some off-colour capsules and whirring silver objects.

"And put this in the suit of armor next to the Slytherin Common Room," George interjected, handing over a clear box of dangerous-looking red powder.

Ron took the presents eagerly, inquiring as to which thing did what. Harry simply smiled and shook his head, thinking about how to convey his message to the Weasley Clan in just a few minutes. As if on cue, a Great-Horned-Owl flew through the open kitchen window, and Harry immediately recognized it as a Hogwarts school owl. "Barnaby," as Ginny had affectionately christened it in second year, came bearing a yellowed parchment envelope with the infamous acid-green writing.

_Mr. Harry Potter  
Living Room  
The Burrow  
Ottery St. Catchpole_

He picked up the letter with numb fingers, wondering what it could possibly say—after all, it was a day before school started; he couldn't have gotten in any trouble _yet_. Harry broke the wax seal and emptied out the parchment inside, revealing a single sheet with spindly writing…which he distinguished as none other than Minerva McGonagall's. He immediately began reading, Ron glancing nervously over Harry's shoulder.

_Dear Mr. Potter,  
As you may know, term begins tomorrow, September 1. However, the events of last June have taken both our Headmaster and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—and as you can deduce, the Hogwarts Staff, myself included, have had little luck finding one who is determined or experienced enough to fill the post in these uncertain times. I realize that you, yourself have not completed the required N.E.W.T.s to become a qualified Hogwarts Instructor or Ministry employee, but the courage and impenetrable affinity you have shown for this area is enough. In short, I am offering you a job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School, and have no doubt that you will succeed beyond measure. I will be expecting you in my office, promptly twenty minutes before the Sorting Ceremony, to discuss your decision and if accepted, the logistics of the post._

_Thank You,  
Minverva McGonagall  
Headmistress of Hogwarts_

Harry fell on the floor, knocked out cold.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hopefully, I'm back for good. I really hope it happens that way, because I remember loving every (well…most) concept of this story and wanting to finish writing it so I could give you some entertainment! The next few chapters proceed as they did previously, but please don't take the author's notes into consideration. By the way, this one is NEW, from November of 2006.

-Threadsofr3gret


	2. Talk

**Author's Note: **This is a BLOODY LONG CHAPTER, written early just for Kaifeuille and make.a.wish. Keeping this note relatively short today. Please don't kill me, this chapter has very little Draco…but there is more along the way. Enjoy.

OOOOKAY…So after I finished writing this entire chapter, I read it over (after I posted) and realised I made a very, very big mistake. Neuro flatulence. Haha. See if you can guess what it was!  
**Disclaimer**: Yeah…you know. Don't own Harry Potter.

**Warning:** Language. No "sex scenes" yet. There's too much explaining to do at the moment.

* * *

  
Chapter 3: Talk

"Harry. HARRY, wake up!" SMACK. Harry opened his eyes slowly, just as Ginny's hand approached his cheek with a firm slap.

"Ow! What was that for?" Harry mumbled, not entirely sure what had just happened.

Ron intervened, pushing Ginny aside and putting a shaking hand into the air. "Can you see me? What's your name? How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked worriedly, waving them in front of Harry's eyes.

"Don't be thick, Ron. He was just shocked, he's not dead," Ginny commented irritatedly, turning back to Harry. "You read McGonagall's letter, and you were surprised. Hell, I would be surprised, too! Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, as a _seventh year_? Even Fred and George aren't that smart, and they're the ones causing most of Hogwarts' problems with their spells!"

"We resent that," Fred called over from the other side of the room, "we like to think of ourselves as _entertainers_, giving the students of Hogwarts a better day."

"Yeah, of torturing Filch and that rat, Mrs. Norris," George continued.

Harry laughed, but answered Ginny uncertainly. This was it, there was no turning away now…he would have to tell them—"I…er…I was thinking about not going back to Hogwarts at all. I've got a couple of things to do, I wanted to go back to Godric's Hollow and…look up some things."

The whole room grew silent, gaping. Mrs. Weasley's knitting fell limply to the floor, and Ginny's jaw dropped. The only one not remotely surprised was Ron, for he had known of Harry's plans since the end of sixth year. Harry braced himself, fully expecting and even waiting for Molly Weasley's explosion. To his astonishment, it never came.

"I understand," she said in a calm voice, instead. "As much as you behave like one of my children and I wish you were my seventh son, dear, you're not. And I cannot stop you—right now, there are more important things that you need to do. I'll go see Minerva McGonagall tomorrow night and tell her you couldn't make it, if you'd like," she finished, giving a slight, warm smile that made Harry want to be beaten violently with the back end of a Hungarian Horntail dragon.

"No, I'll go, I want to see Hogwarts one final time," Harry muttered, his head hanging low and his spirits even lower.

Fred and George remained speechless throughout Harry's announcement, looking quite dumbfounded and unnatural, while Mr. Weasley simply looked tired and worn out, as if he hadn't heard at all. Ginny, on the other hand, stalked upstairs with a disappointed glare and droplets of premature tears in the corners of her eyes. Harry motioned to follow her, but Ron held out an arm to stop him.

"Let her go, mate. She's upset and may do something she'll regret. Ginny'll calm down soon, she comes around sooner or later," he said sagely, looking at his mother with a hopeful glance. "Mum…Harry can't go alone, you know. And I'm seventeen now, I'm a legal wizard!" he rationalized, praying for the same reaction as she gave Harry.

"Absolutely not, Ronald. You need to finish your N.E.W.T.s and get a good Ministry job like your father and brot…like your father," Mrs. Weasley snapped, taking out any present anger on Ron.

"But Mum, Bill works in Egypt as a curse-breaker, Charlie is a dragon keeper, and Fred and George own a joke shop! Why should _I_ have to get a 'good Ministry job'? No one else did. Make Ginny do it!" Ron whined, sullen-faced and moody.

"Ron, I'm not discussing this with you now. You barely pulled up four O.W.L.s. How do you think you'll become an Auror with those marks? In any case, you need to finish school. Win the bloody Quidditch Cup, for all I care, but take your N.E.W.T.s!" Mrs. Weasley finished with an angry sort of grandeur. "And Ginny has absolutely nothing to do with this," she added, as an afterthought.

The fire in the Burrow's ancient hearth began to crackle nervously and die out, signifying the end to a stressful evening. Having not spoken after Ron's outburst, the four eagerly climbed the stairs and prepared for bed, leaving Fred and George to apparate back to Diagon Alley. Harry heard faint sobbing from a nearby room…Ginny's room…and could not possibly ignore it. He cautiously made his way down the hall, being sure not to creak the wooden plank floors and alert Ginny of an unwanted visitor. He put his right hand carefully to the door knob, but reached up to knock on the cracked and painted oak with his left.

"Who is it?" a shaky voice called out.

Harry stuttered. "It's…it's m-me."

"Go away, I don't want to see you," Ginny responded in a cold tone.

He opened the door, nonetheless, popping his head in before he got hexed. Ginny raised her eyebrows, but not her wand, and Harry took that as a sign to come inside the room. The faded lilac walls were spotless but shabby, worn linen cloth covering the windows, pillows, and bed spread. Ginny lay huddled underneath her quilt, eyes puffy and red from crying.

"No, don't cry! It'll be fine—I can come visit you all, I'll bring you things, and I'll even stay in the Burrow during Christmas…if your family wants me to," Harry said in an overly optimistic manner, smiling so widely that his face hurt.

"Stop the rubbish, Harry. You need to understand that this is not the first time that I've watched you go do something so idiotic that you could get killed. Now, being away to find the horcruxes"—Harry gasped at this—"yes, I know about the horcruxes, is bad enough, but what if You-Know-Who or the Death Eaters find you first? It even took _Dumbledore_ ages to locate one, and look what happened to him!" Ginny bellowed, getting out of her bed and standing by the window. Harry felt a twang of guilt and hurt at the mention of Dumbledore's name, but focused on Ginny's shadow on the floor instead.

"I know, Gin, but I'll be fine. I have Professor Lupin, Professor Moody and Tonks to help me out, they're more than qualified! Look, Ginny, I'd love to stay at Hogwarts with you and everyone else…you know I would. I just…I just can't. I owe this to Dumbledore and my father and mother, and even Sirius! They all died, and it was because of me. It was my fault. The least I can do is kill that vile—I just need to kill Voldemort and as many Death Eaters as I possibly can. And this is my battle alone, none of you can help me with this! D'you think that I haven't thought about taking you, Ron, and Hermione? What do you think is stopping me from doing that?" Ginny didn't answer, but she knew exactly what Harry was about to say. "Because I care about you too much. Your lives are so much more valuable than mine—if I die, then so does the 'Chosen One' and the 'Boy Who Lived,' proving that I'm right, I'm nothing special. But if you die, then your families and friends will miss you. I have nobody anymore, and I'm tired of it. At least I'll be able to go behind the curtain…" Harry trailed off, his mind wandering.

"Harry, that's a load of crap, and you know it. Don't you think we all care about you? You've saved our entire family's lives, and not just by being brave and heroic. You don't scoff at us for being poor, you're the best friend that Ron's ever had, and I love you!" Ginny clamped a hand over her mouth.

"You…what?" Harry responded incredulously.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, you heard me!" she snapped back.

"Well," Harry said slowly, a smile spreading on his face, "I love you, too."

* * *

The train ride on the Hogwarts Express was fairly uneventful—if Mrs. Weasley's incessant crying about her "Ickle Ronniekins'" last trip on the train, Ron meeting Hermione and blushing madly for twenty minutes, and Neville walking into the gang's compartment in his pants…alone…didn't count. The group roared, peals of laughter emitting from someone after every one of Neville's attempts to explain that he "only ate a tart that Fred offered him, not knowing it was a Disappearing Dress Dumpling."

They were nearing the countryside, closer to Hogwarts by the second, when Ron and Hermione decided to take the 'prefect rounds' that they had neglected for the entire trip. Neville left shortly afterward, muttering something about looking after his _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ and putting on some robes. This left Harry and Ginny together, alone, though the situation was less than romantic. Ginny was nodding off, snoring slightly, and leaving threads of drool on Harry's lap. Harry was fidgeting with a chocolate frog and Bertie Bott's beans, attempting to insert a particularly unappetizing confection into Ginny's mouth while she was asleep.

Bored of trying to feed Ginny a tripe-flavoured bean and falling asleep himself, Harry gave a start when he heard a faint rapping on the compartment window. He glanced at the window, expecting the Cart witch or Luna Lovegood inquiring about a said- Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but instead, looked at a "sexily" pouting Romilda Vane.

Harry beckoned her inside with his free hand, a tiny frown etched into his forehead.

"Are you busy?" Romilda asked coyly, looking at Ginny's sleeping, drooling figure with evident contempt. Harry merely shrugged, following her eyes and feeling quite embarrassed about the current situation. "No. Er, not to sound rude, but what're you doing here?"

"Oh, I've just been hearing things, and I wanted to see if they were true. Are you _really_ going to be Defense against the Dark Arts teacher? Because Marietta said that Roger Davies said that he heard your friend Ron talking about it, and I just wanted to see if it was true." Seeing the cross look on his face, she hastily added, "Not that it's surprising. You'll be a…erm…great teacher," she finished quietly, batting her eyelashes and wringing her hands like a small school-girl.

Harry reminded himself to slap Ron the next time he saw him. "No, I'm not going to be teaching."

"Oh, then I guess your friend Ron was lying. Wonder who'll teach it next year? Maybe there won't be a class, then…Good, one less O.W.L to worry about," Romilda said, more to herself than to Harry. He, on the other hand, felt a prickle of anger when she mentioned Ron, and restrained himself from giving her a good shake.

"In any case, Harry, I just wanted to come back here and say how brave you were last year, as usual. And I'm really sorry…about…the Chocolate Cauldrons and…er…things,"Romilda finished, blushing.

"…Thanks, I guess," Harry began, but was roughly cut off by Romilda's mouth. He tried pulling away, but she grabbed onto his neck…not worrying about the sleeping Ginny below the two of them. Harry pried himself away, looking livid.

"What the bleeding fuck was that?"

"Oh…I'm sorry…I just couldn't help myself," she said unconvincingly. Harry knew Romilda was up to something, and he was going to find out what. He saw her hand moving down the bench, just barely touching Harry's sweatshirt and pulling away Ginny's stray hairs.

_What would she want with Ginny's hairs?_ Harry thought. And then it hit him.

_Polyjuice!  
_  
Romilda grabbed the hairs and ran, crashing the compartment door and breaking the glass in the window. "_Reparo_," he incanted, laying Ginny's head and the sweatshirt on the seat and running after Romilda. He would have to force the hairs from her, but Harry couldn't have replica Ginnys all over Hogwarts. It was just too confusing.

* * *

In the meantime, Ginny abruptly woke up as Draco Malfoy shoved open the door to what he thought was an empty compartment.

"Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! What am I going to do? Half of the bloody people on this train are trying to kill me, and the other half are trying to castrate me first," Draco groaned, slumping back into the nearest seat.

"Resorted to talking to yourself, have you?" Ginny called out from where she was laying. She giggled as Draco fell out of his seat, angrily looking for the author of this cheeky response. He found her, and smirked.

"As a matter of fact, Little Red, I have. I've found that my company is much more enjoyable than all of the people at Hogwarts, combined. Of course, you're not accustomed to _good company_, now?"

Ginny scowled, evidently at a temporary loss of words.

"That's what I thought," Draco grinned and sat down next to her, throwing Harry's sweatshirt on the floor.

Ginny regained her composure, and attitude, and pushed Draco off the seat. "Don't sit next to me, and don't touch Harry's clothes."

"Those are _clothes?_ I could have sworn that it was a rag."

"You still haven't answered my question," Ginny said, ignoring Draco's last comment, "You're not going to be able to just stroll into the Great Hall without some sort of excuse."

"You needn't worry about that, Ginevra. Keep your long nose in your own affairs, and we should be just fine."

Ginny didn't bother to respond. It was either shut up or be hexed.

And _sectumsempra_ didn't sound too appealing at the moment.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express had finally reached its destination, and students were spilling out of the train like water from a leak. Thestral-drawn carriages lined up beside Hogsmeade Station, waiting for Hagrid to direct them toward the school. The first years nervously huddled around the half-giant, looking for friends that they'd met on the train. As they began walking towards the mouth of the lake, Hagrid winked at Harry and gave a quick wave, as if he knew about Harry's job offer and expected him to take it.

Harry debated whether to board the carriages, wondering how he would make it to McGonagall's office before the Sorting Ceremony. As if answering his question, a Hogwarts owl landed next to Harry and held out its leg, a letter attached.

_I daresay that your Firebolt will do the job. Sherbert lemons are being honoured this term._

_-Minerva_

Minerva? _Oh well, here goes nothing_. Harry picked up the broom out of his trunk, having made sure to carry his own luggage before a House Elf transported it to his old dorm. He balanced his trunk and Hedwig's cage in his arms, and climbed onto the Firebolt.

* * *

After being thoroughly reprimanded by Filch, ogled at by the first years in the lake, and involved in a slight run-in with a lost owl, Harry made his way to the Headmaster's office. As he neared the gargoyle and gave the password, he heard a loud voice through the paneling.

"I _have_ to come back to Hogwarts!" Draco Malfoy argued.

Harry heard Professor McGonagall's curt voice, speaking in clipped tones. "Mr. Malfoy, I will not tolerate this. Do you understand what you've done? Last year, you brought Death Eaters into Hogwarts, cursed Katie Bell, poisoned Ronald Weasley, and attempted to murder our former Headmaster. I cannot possibly let you come back to this school, you have no right to be here."

Draco quieted considerably, "I have nowhere else to go…they killed her. Bellatrix Lestrange killed my mother, her own sister," he said, in barely more than a whisper. Harry wished he had a pair of Extendable Ears, they would have been highly useful in this circumstance. He pressed the side of his face against the wall, and listened more. "…he's as good as dead. He can't survive in Azkaban."

"Mr. Malfoy, can you give me any information on the whereabouts of Severus Snape?"

"I've told you," Malfoy sad, impatiently, "he ran off somewhere, after leaving me at Malfoy Manor."

"But convinced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to refrain from killing you?" Professor McGonagall added.

"Yes, yes, He was happy that I fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, but killed my mother instead. I didn't ask for it, I didn't know it was going to happen, I do not know where Professor Snape is, and I really want to come back to school," Malfoy finished, sounding more irate as every second passed.

"Mr. Malfoy, this is completely against my instincts, but I will allow you to come back to Hogwarts," Malfoy must have looked triumphant or smug, because she quickly added, "after a good dosage of Veritaserum. I suspect that you are not a trained Legilimens?"

"No," Draco said, defeated.

"I'm expecting another visitor at the moment, so if you would kindly report to Professor Slughorn, he will begin the questioning immediately. He will tell me how it turns out, Draco, so we will talk about this tomorrow."

Harry saw Draco exit the room, cursing under his breath, but heading toward the dungeons. Harry hid behind the stone gargoyle, until Malfoy was completely out of sight. "Sherbert Lemon," he said, and the door immediately opened toward the office. For a second, Harry swore he had heard Dumbledore's voice.

"Minerva, I don't know if this is a very good idea, meeting with him up here. Harry might think that he will be able to communicate with me through this portrait, and I'm afraid of what that will bring." It _was_ Dumbledore…but only a painting. Harry stopped dead in his tracks and waited for Professor McGonagall's reply.

"Albus, this is important. And I know, but I'll do what I can to prevent it," McGonagall responded softly, as if she knew Harry was standing right outside of the office.

"Mr. Potter, you may come in now," she said, evidently confirming Harry's thoughts.

Harry meekly entered the room, standing in the corner with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Sit."

"Alright," Harry muttered, sitting down in the chair across from… Professor McGonagall's… desk. The Headmaster's office looked exactly the same as it did last June—whirring, silver objects adorned the walls and cluttered the shelves. The Pensieve was still in an open cupboard, but it appeared to be empty—free of all thoughts. Harry couldn't look at it. Before McGonagall could say a word, Harry spoke.

"I can't take the job. I can't teach everything when I don't know it all," Harry said slowly, not looking at the Transfiguration teacher, come Headmistress.

"Mr. Potter, I understand what you're feeling, but I'm quite sure that the N.E.W.T topics should be quite easy for you to learn in a short time. But that's besides the point. I have a feeling that you're not worried about the curriculum as much as you are about not being able to finish what Professor Dumbledore started. You will be given leave on weekends, breaks, and during final exam and N.E.W.T. times, to do whatever you'd wish. There is plenty of time for these things, Harry, and I daresay that we, the teachers, would be more than happy to assist you in any way possible. Please reconsider, we have not chosen another candidate—the class will be discontinued as soon as the year begins, if we cannot find an appropriate teacher. Not one person on this staff is as qualified as you, Harry, and it is a great risk _not_ to teach these students how to effectively practise resistance against Dark Arts," she paused, and Harry opened his mouth.

"Don't say anything right now, I want you to think about this. And no, Professor Lupin cannot teach the course. It was a distinct possibility, but Fenrir Greyback's associations with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are too important to ignore. As he did not see Remus last June, Greyback does not know that he is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Also, Professor Slughorn cannot make the Wolfsbane potion with as much precision as Severus Snape could, leaving the students of Hogwarts at the mercy of a full-fledged werewolf. We can't risk that. This is not to make you feel guilty, but…quite frankly, you _are_ our only hope," she finally stopped, a peculiar look clouding her eyes. It was a look of sadness, filled with more passion and remorse than Harry had ever seen in his life. _This_ was more important. Ridding the world of Voldemort was one thing, but helping others to do the same was another. It was the better option.

"So, where will I be staying?" Harry asked, watching her face brighten and her shoulders straighten.

"_Professor_ Potter, I'll show you to your room."

* * *

**Author's (second) Note**: So…yeah…I hope this filled in the cracks. And sorry about the slight delay. I would rather give you correct, accurate information later on than incorrect information early.

**Next time, on Square One**:

- Harry's first DADA class…will he sink or swim?  
-.Ginny's first _real_ meeting with Malfoy  
- Malfoy's Veritaserum answers (It'll be jolly good fun, I tell you)  
- Harry and Cho? What _did_ they talk about on the Hogwarts Express?

Review, pleeeeeeease!

…Threads Of Regret


	3. Hardest Part

**Author's Note:** I've been looking ALL OVER fanfiction for a certain Harry/Draco story. If you read this synopsis and know what it is, PLEASE tell me. I've been craving to re-read it. If you don't read Harry/Draco, then ignore this next part.

Harry and Draco don't know they're homosexual—but a series of weekly truth or dare type-games, conducted by Pansy and Hermione, reveal the astonishing truth. Throughout the year, the dares get progressively more explicit and less comfortable for Harry and Draco…and so they "practise" without knowing what to expect, finally going all the way (with the blessing of Seamus Finnegan, Harry's only gay friend). Through tutoring-sessions in dungeons, many trips to the Room of Requirement, and more-than-studious tutoring sessions, these boys find their true sexualities…and their true natures.

Okay…done. Thanks. :

**Warning**: This chapter is a little bit more frisky than the rest. I'm a little bit frustrated today. Yeah. Be warned.

**Disclaimer**: Yeah…Daniel Radcliffe still lurks in my room. A poster of him, at least. Hey, a girl can dream…swoons. Only Tom Felton could make this better.

* * *

Chapter 4: Hardest Part

"Mmm…I've always fancied dating a teacher," Ginny said breathily, crossing her legs and leaning back on the desk. Even before going to the Great Hall for breakfast, she had gone to visit Harry in his new office. He was arranging books and reading snippets of paragraphs, trying to decide what to teach, when she had walked in and noisily shut the door behind her.

Harry walked over to her immediately, pulling onto her waist and lifting her head up to his. He kissed her on the cheek, nose, and ear, teasing her to see what she would do. Ginny gave Harry the reaction he was looking for—roughly slamming her mouth onto his and wetting his lips with her tongue. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead gave an invitation for a deeper kiss. She undid the ties to his robes with great ease, moving on to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt.

Harry pulled away, evidently embarrassed that his office would be…christened…in such a way. "Gin, not now. I am not going to let you waste your first time—our first time—on Snape's old desk."

Ginny immediately stopped, resenting the visual and sneering at Harry. "At least give me ten points for snogging you senseless, _Professor_," she pulled on his tie and brought her face close to his annunciating 'snog' and 'professor' in a most unbearable way. Unbearable for Harry, of course, being a seventeen-year-old male.

He gave in.

"Twenty, if you do that again."

* * *

Draco sat at the Slytherin table and scowled. And the rest of the Slytherins scowled back. Even Pansy, Blaise, and those oafs, Crabbe and Goyle, were making it a point to whisper darkly amongst themselves and glance his way. He spooned his cinnamon porridge glumly, all of a sudden losing his appetite. 

Last night was humiliating enough, why should he have to go through this now? He was a _Malfoy_, Merlin's beard, he should be respected (if not worshipped) by these people! A bad taste formulated in his mouth as he thought about his Veritaserum "reveal" with Slughorn the previous night—complete with numerous pints of mead, several different Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products, and the entire Slytherin House.

"_Not so much like your grandfather, are you?" Slughorn began, pulling a vial of clear liquid and a dropper out of his coat pocket. The dungeons roared with laughter as Slughorn pretended to spill the whole contents of the bottle into Draco's mouth._

"_Get on with it," Draco said gruffly, doing his best not to cry. Or have an accident. _

"Eh, eh, eh, M'boy. Take what comes when I decide it does." He paused for a moment, looking at Draco's frightened expression, but proceeded.

"_It's only Veritaserum, it won't hurt a bit! I'm only giving you a small dosage, three drops or so…which should last for a little less than an hour." _

That was supposed to be reassuring?_ Draco thought, squeezing his eyes shut and reluctantly ingesting the potion. He re-opened his eyes, a glazed and far-away look masking his usually handsome face. _

"_What is your name?" Slughorn tested the potions effects._

"_Draconis Vulcane Malfoy," he said clearly, in a bland, monotone voice. _

"_Okay, Mr. Malfoy, let's go on. Were you, in fact, one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers? A Death Eater, that is to say?" _

"_Yes and no."_

"_Elaborate, please," Slughorn looked nervously around the room, eyeing Theodore Nott, Crabbe and Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Thomas Avery. If they were the friends Draco said they were, this was going to be a long night. _

"I do have the Dark Mark, but he altered the Protean Charm to alert me only when he needed me. I never attended his meetings, I didn't work with any other Death Eaters, and I'd never even seen him." Draco closed his mouth and blinked.

_The Potions-master stuttered. "Er…erm…then who gave you instructions?" _

"_It was almost always Aunt Bella or Amycus. Sometimes, MacNair or Nott came, because they're friends of my father's."_

"_Bellatrix Lestrange?"_

"_Yes."_

"_So…eh…were you in contact with your father at all during last year?"_

"_Yes. My mother and I visited him from time to time, in Azkaban. Dementors don't have ears, you know, so I could talk to him about the Dark Lord's plans without being overheard. My mother distracted the rest of the prisoners while I spoke to him. He attempted to kill himself, because he felt as if he had caused this," Draco said, his face still expressionless._

"_Was it his fault? Is that what You-Know-Who said?"_

"_Yes. Aunt Bella told me that my father had blundered, and that the Dark Lord was going to make him pay."_

"_What did your mother feel about this?"_

"_She cried most of the time. She was upset at my father, but more at Aunt Bella." _

It was apparent that Slughorn was a little bit more than uncomfortable. Viewing the Slytherin's bored or shocked faces, he began asking questions that Draco definitely wouldn't have answered in any fully-conscious state.

"_Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, has your cherry beenpopped" _

"_Yes. Two years ago, with Thomas Avery's sister," he said blandly, though Avery looked like he would kill the boy. Laughter erupted from the Slytherins, who were just beginning to pass around the Butterbeer and Mead. _

"_And how about your…er…thwapping habits?"_

_The whole room went silent, craning their necks to properly hear Draco's response. This was the age old "ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies" query._

"_Morgan le Faye's chocolate frog card, Celestina Warbeck, and pictures of the Holyhead Harpies."_

"_Hey, me too!" Crabbe interjected, the rest of the Slytherins immediately looking at him and rolling on the floor with laughter. This simply egged Slughorn on, to the point of asking the one question that nobody had dared to ask…in fear of being killed. _

"_So, Draco, is it true you have a picture of Ginevra Weasley in your underwear drawer?" _

"Yes."

* * *

"Ifschwick 'ill oad. Iashoo gooschars ihaay!" Ginny said thickly, ripping pieces of buttered toast and stuffing them into her mouth. She swallowed. "I'll be late for Charms if I don't go now. Thanks for the breakfast, Hermione!" she waved at the departing three, walking off and managing to trip on her _still_ un-hemmed robes along the way. She braced herself for the fall, and hoped that a simple healing spell would do the trick.

Instead of the cold, marble floors that covered most of the Hogwarts castle, Ginny landed in the arms of a green-clad figure. _With my luck, it's Draco Malfoy, and he's going to drop me. One…two…thr—_

"I always seem to be meeting you at your worst, Ginevra, we really should stop running into each other like this," he said haugtily, looking considerably less powerful with his clique of gawking Slytherins not present.

"Funny, I was just looking forward to _run into you_, as you so eloquently said. I was thinking 'Hey, Ginny, let's go find the boy who's father cursed you through You-Know-Who's old diary, and attempt to knock him over! Maybe we could even try a couple of hexes, yeah? I'm sure he would appreciate that! And if you're lucky, he'll invite his Death Eater pals if you really piss him off!'" Ginny picked up her discarded bag and started walking, tossing her auburn hair and trying to avoid Malfoy's gaze.

He reached out a hand and clamped it onto her shoulder, spinning her around and giving her his trademark "smouldering gaze." The kind that brought girls to his bed, every single one without fail. How could it not happen with the Weaslette? Sure, she was a beauty—with soft, milky skin that he could touch for hours, deep, dark brown eyes that seared his skin and bore into his mind, a girlish, budding chest, heart-shaped mouth, red as a cherry (_Oh Merlin, cherry)_…and her hair. That irresistable, velveteen mane that he had teased for four years, but secretly adored. _Of course she'll fall for it. This _always _works._

It didn't work.

Sooner than he had fantasized her between his emerald-colour sheets, Ginny Weasley had broken out of Draco's grasp and was hurrying to Charms.

_Soon, Draco,_ he thought to himself, _soon_.

* * *

"Hinkypunks! Would anyone mind telling me what they are and what they do?" Harry said brightly to a group of second-years. A small brunette rose her hand immediately, practially jumping out of her seat. She had very sharp features; a prominent, straight nose, big, blue eyes, and healthy-looking, tanned skin.

"Yes, Ms…"

"McClaine. Aphelia McClaine, Professor."

"Alright, Aphelia, please go on. And call me Harry. Unless McGonagall is around." He winked, the second-year girls giving a collective sigh.

"Thanks, _Harry_," she looked positively delighted, "Hinkypunks are a type of water creature that aim to mislead travelers crossing the marshes and wetlands where they reside. They are pink in colour, and have a lantern-shaped protrusion on their heads, in order to further confuse these travelers," Aphelia said in one breath.

"Y-yes, exactly," Harry was amazed, and the small girl smirked at her envious friends, "Ms. McClaine, I think you should go speak to a friend of mine—"

"Hermione Granger?" she said at once, looking more excited than ever.

"Yes, Hermione. I think you both will find quite a bit in common." Turning back to the class, he completed his lecture in time for the lunch bell. "Hinkypunks can be temporarily stunned with _Rictusempra_, slightly wounded with _Relashio_, and of course, can be ki…" he trailed off, remembering who he was talking to.  
"Alright," he said in the same bright voice as before, "I think that's enough for today. See you all tomorrow."

The students noisily packed their things and rushed out of the room—but not without waving to Harry and gazing at him with misty eyes.

Ginny, having ran from Charms, entered the room with a slight rasp in her throat. Panting, she hugged Harry from behind. "They, sir, are smitten. And so am I." She kissed him lightly on the neck, and lay her head on his shoulder. "Come down to lunch with me?"

"Er…Ginny…Professor McGonagall—Minerva, she insists I call her—has asked me to sit at the Staff Table."

"Oh," Ginny said in an oddly high-pitched voice, "I-it's quite alright. I'm sure you all have Professor things to talk about, then." She walked to the Ravenclaw table and plopped down by Luna Lovegood, ignoring Ron and Hermione's rapid hand motions.

Harry looked at them and shrugged, making his way up to his new lunch-area. As he approached the table, the teachers appreciatively clapped Harry on the back and made room for him in chairs they conjured next to them, on the spot.

"Okay, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall's clear, Scottish twang appeared from nowhere, "I'm giving you time-table duty. You will see to it that all of the Gryffindors have been correctly placed into the classes that are appropriate for them. Be especially careful with this year's N.E.W.T. students—they are most at risk of attempting to take courses that they are not prepared for. Report any and all schedule changes to either Professor Flitwick or myself, we shall see to it that all goes correctly."

Harry groaned. This was going to be a long lunch time…and not because of the good food.

* * *

Draco's stomach growled violently, but he dared not venture into the Great Hall for a meal. Nott would kill him for certain…and the desserts served today were _cherry_ tart, _cherry_ sorbet, and _cherry_ marmalade- filled eclaires. Why was the whole world against him today?

He sat in the corridor, talking only to himself and a wheezing suit of armor, but secretly wished that _somebody_ would find him. A female _somebody_ with red hair and freckles.

"Honestly, Ron, if I say nothing's the matter…then NOTHING'S THE MATTER!"

His wish came true.

"Ginny, come on…"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you don't get out of my sight at this very moment, I will place a very powerful…and painful…rendition of _Reducio_ in the region that you least need it.," Ginny said sweetly, sending Ron running back into the Great Hall.

She slumped against a nearby wall, sitting down the same way that Draco did—not knowing that he was merely feet away.

He turned to face her without revealing his presence."Nice day, innit, Little Red?"

Ginny bit back a scream when she recognized the drawl. "Not you, again! Don't you have some first years to terrorize?"

"Nope. I'm all yours."

"Fantastic. Just bloody fantastic."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Eeeeee! I updated. It's not so long this time, but it's all I could crank out for now. School work is heavy this time of year, having just gotten back from summer hols…so please, bear with me. This should have been a little bit more interesting; the tension between Draco and Ginny is building up! (whether Ginny realises it or not). And I promise, more _action_ later on.  
**  
Next Time, on Square One**: 

-The first Hogsmeade trip of the school year (this one will be exciting…to read _and _to write)  
-More Draco/Ginny liasons  
-Hopefully, some Ron and Hermione reactions, added to the schoolwide Draco-hatred!  
-Pansy gets her revenge. For what, you ask? We'll find out…

**PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, review?**  
I'll hold chapter 5 hostage if I'm not getting very many. Yes, I've resorted to that.  
I'm a review hoard...what do you expect?  
Again, pleeeease spend 10 seconds to 1 minute and write something...pleaaaase?

I love you?


	4. What If?

**Author's Note** Thanks for the reviews, guys:wink: Next time, will I _not_ have to threaten to stop writing? VERY sorry for not getting this to you on time…things have been really hectic and I've been having a large bout of Writer's Block :cough:…blah blah, you don't care. It's here now! And my question still stands…has anybody heard of the fic that I described in the previous chapter? It'd be fantastic if somebody remembered it and told me the name. Please and thank you!

**Warning**: Broken hearts are ahead. Maybe some rash action. Hmm…could be something to worry about. Language.

**Discretion**: So last night I had a dream that I owned Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, and her/its affiliates…and…er…I woke up and found that I, in fact, did not, but rather was chewing on a giant plush duck that by chance, happened to be laying next to me.

* * *

Chapter Four: What If?

"Happy Halloween!" Hermione called out happily from the other side of the Gryffindor girl's dormitory, throwing pieces of candied pumpkin at Ginny's sleeping form.

"Whazgoinon?" Ginny mumbled groggily, quickly waking up at the sight of Hermione's pink flannel, floral-pattered pajamas. "You know, I've always wondered why I never see you in pajamas—I would have been obligated to burn them," she said, turning over, " 'Matter of fact, if I wasn't so bloody tired, they would be in there right now. I'm going back to sleep." She pointed a languid finger at the stone hearth and pulled the covers over her head.

"No, you're not," Hermione said crossly, still miffed at Ginny's pajama comment..

"Bugger off, Hermione, it's Saturday! No class, no work, and no waking up at the crack of bleedin' dawn."

"It's also Hogsmeade day! You don't want to miss the first trip of the year, do you?"

"Hermione. It's. Seven. O'Clock. In. The. Morning."

"Best get some homework done before we go, Ginny," Hermione protested weakly, drawing open a curtain and sending the morning sunlight throughout the dorm room. Several other girls woke and groaned, throwing cushions at Hermione—who expertly ducked to avoid them. Instead, Ginny got a faceful of feathers, rounding on the brunette and glaring. This had definitely happened before.

* * *

Two hours later, Ginny, accompanied by several other Gryffindor girls, emerged from inside of their bed-hangings…fully rested. She stretched and yawned, following her classmates to the never-ending line for the showers. _This is going to take forever_, Ginny thought bitterly, trying hard not to listen to Hermione's voice in her head—reminding her to wake up.

A few minutes passed, and the crowd of girls still had not budged…causing Ginny to grow impatient. She stood, frowning, trying to formulate a plan to rid the showers of these girls in time enough to bathe with a decent amount of warm water. Almost immediately, her face brightened and her brown eyes twinkled mischievously. No one knew what to expect.

"A HEXED TOAD IS LOOSE IN THE GRYFFINDOR GIRLS' SHOWERS," she yelled in her best McGonagall impression, accomplishing the Scottish accent with perfect rhythm and tone, "ALL STUDENTS MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, AS THE ANIMAL MAY HAVE BEEN PUT UNDER THE IMPERIUS CURSE."

Sure enough, hordes of girls tumbled out of the bathrooms as fast as possible, clutching their towels and dripping wet hair on the plush, red carpet of the dormitory.

Amidst the chaos, Ginny slipped into the bathroom unnoticed, picking her usual shower. She let the remaining hot water wash over her face, fully waking her up, and lazily began scrubbing her hair with scented soap. The water turned cold when it was time to rinse.

Soon after, Ginny grumpily finished her bath and exited the empty bathroom, watching her frightened dorm-mates hide themselves under covers.

She shook her head and opened her trunk, pulling out a jade-green jumper and a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans. _Thank goodness for no uniform on weekends_, she thought, _one more day in a tie and I would have donated all of my clothing to Dobby_. Ginny began her way to the Great Hall for breakfast, grabbing her robe and a cloak as she ambled hastily out of the dorm.

_It's going to be good day. I _command_ it to be a good day.

* * *

_

"Muffin? Eggs? Sausage?" Hermione wheedled, forcing Ron to eat a 'full, nutritious' breakfast before they departed to Hogsmeade Village.

"I told you, Hermione," Ron said nervously, "I don't want anything. You wouldn't have an appetite either, if your best Seeker was thrown off of the team…for being a teacher."

"Oh, Ron, don't be so stupid. It's just some silly Quidditch nonsense, it should work out soon enough," Hermione said, clearly in a tone that she thought was comforting and reassuring. It only agitated Ron more.

"Hermione," he said, his voice quickly rising, "try being told you're the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain because YOU'RE THE OLDEST IN THE GROUP, AND YOU'RE THE LAST CAPTAIN'S BEST MATE!"

The brunette simply stared at her pumpkin juice, pursing her lips.

"Co-captain, that is," Ginny had just arrived, gulping down Hermione's juice and pausing to talk to the two. "It's really no problem, Ron…_I_ can Seek, and Dean can Chase. It'll be fine. Can't talk long, I'm going to visit Harry at the Staff Table. Filch'll have a right heart attack," she grinned, watching Ron sputter and bury his head in his hands. "I'll meet you both at the school gate, we'll go to the Three Broomsticks together."

She strode over to the table with her things, prepared to be next to Harry—even if she had to sit on Flitwick to do so. Harry, seeing her coming, rose from his seat and met her.

"Hello," he said quietly, kissing her on the cheek while pretending to wipe off some dirt from her face.

"Hi!" Ginny replied brightly, kissing him full on the lips in front of all of the students—and teachers—situated in the Great Hall.

"Er…Ginny…I don't think that's such a good idea," Harry mumbled, embarrassed, looking in every other direction. Apparently not noticing his discomfort, she went on, "Three Broomsticks, yes? Of course, we could always go to Madam Puddifoot's…if you'd like," she joked loudly, purposely drawing attention to Harry and herself.

He blushed profusely, but spoke. "I...um…I've been put on School Duty. They reckon that it…er…will do me some good for a while. Give me some 'teacher' experience, they said."

Seeing Ginny's blank face, he tilted her chin with a cold hand and brought it up to his. Giving her a light kiss, he continued, "I'll make it up to you. Next Hogsmeade trip, I'm all yours." _And Ron's, Hermione's, and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team's,_ Harry thought, glancing at Ginny with a wry look.

Ginny took this to mean nothing, forcing a smile and speaking in an unnaturally strained voice. "It's fine, Harry, really. You have obligations and I need to understand that. I guess I'll see you in class, then." She walked off, not bothering to finish breakfast.

* * *

"Three Butterbeers, please," Ginny said dully, shoving some silver on the wooden bar and ignoring Madam Rosmerta's dazzling beam. She grabbed the bottles and three glasses from the other woman, quickly making her way to the table where she, Ron, and Hermione were sitting.

Hermione had a book, _Standard Book of Spells: N.E.W.T. Edition_, propped up against a bag of Zonko's products, reading furiously and practicing wand movements in the air. Ron pulled it out of her hands and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, scolding her for studying on a Hogsmeade weekend.

Ginny sighed. It was awful not having Harry around.

She sipped her drink in silence, watching groups of students and villagers pour into the pub, and waved unenthusiastically when she saw a small crowd of Hogwarts teachers come in for an afternoon drink. _Harry must be bored to death, might as well go back up to school and keep him company_. Ginny picked up her cloak and drained her glass in one swig, bidding a very comfortable-looking Ron and Hermione goodbye.

"…Er…Thanks, Prof—Min…er…va…Erm, are you sure I can't call you Professor?"

The voice was unmistakable.

"Speak of the Devil," Ginny muttered darkly, attracting looks that quite evidently questioned her sanity. "Ruddy liar can't even go to Hogsmeade without coming up with some rubbish!" she stalked out of the pub, mumbling few conceivable words as she kicked pieces of litter on the cobblestone roads. "Shove it…School Duty…my…arse…blithering…I'll chuck him!"

She walked all the way to the Shrieking Shack this way, still gathering off-colour stares, when she finally turned back and heard approaching footsteps. Ginny slowly spun around but continued to look at the street, noticing the fine, dragon-hide boots that adorned this visitor's feet. _Malfoy. Again. I'm cursed, honestly_. She met his eyes, transferring all of her previous anger into a "cold, hard gaze" and forgetting just what she was angry at Harry about.

"Weasley," he said clearly, taking a step closer.

"Malf—No. Goodbye," Ginny quickened her pace and began walking back to the village.

"No, wait," Draco paused, watching the auburn-haired girl do the same, "I saw you come out of the Three Broomsticks. What was the matter? Did Potter snog another girl?"

"Yes, that's it," Ginny lied, continuing briskly," And why do you care? More importantly, why were you following me?"

"I don't believe you. And I wasn't following you, can't a bloke have a look at the most haunted house in Britain? I can't possibly see why not—"

"Don't talk to _me_ about lying, Malfoy, you've seen the Shrieking Shack more times than you've…well…you're all the same. Men!"

"Look, I'm just trying to be friendly, you know? Make up for all of those times I was a prat. Turn over a new leaf, if you will."

"I won't. And I don't know. Just piss off, Malfoy, I'm not interested. And it would take much more than harassing me, quite like you're doing now, to 'make up' for anything."

The two were nearing the village, merely feet away from the Three Broomsticks, when the door opened and the Hogwarts Staff exited—considerably less…alert…than half an hour before. Madame Rosmerta followed them out, giggling and blushing as she pecked each male staff-member—Harry included—sinfully on the cheek. Ginny felt a prickle of jealousy travel through her body, wishing she could reach out and smack the middle-aged woman on the same spot she had just kissed.

Evidently, Draco had noticed Ginny's anger, and could not stop laughing.

"_Silencio_! Goodbye, Malfoy," Ginny said sweetly, running towards the Hogwarts Castle with an indignant, silent Draco tailing.

* * *

"Gin, I'm really sorry! I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd get upset…"

"Upset? Upset? Upset…LIKE THIS, HARRY?"

Harry determinedly looked the other way, being sure not to fall under Ginny's fiery gaze. He remained speechless, waiting for the Molly Weasley-like ranting (and possibly, a hex or two) to come his way.

"It's not the fact that you went to Hogsmeade. Drink pints and pints of mead, Harry, go get yourself damn smashed with Slughorn and Flitwick, for all I care, just don't lie to me about it!" she stopped abruptly and buried her head in a cushion, looking ashamed.

Harry still did not know what to say.

"Look…I'm sorry. I've just been really buggered lately with N.E.W.T. classes, Quidditch, and not being able to spend more than five minutes with you. You're not even supposed to be in here, are you?" Ginny waved a hand in the air, indicating the Gryffindor Common Room, the crimson sofa they were sitting on, and the scarlet and gold pillows that each were holding.

"It's not your fault. And I can be here if I—well, let's just head down to the feast before anyone finds out about this."

The couple stumbled through the corridors towards the Great Hall, attached to each other by the lip, and much to the Fat Lady's annoyance, leaning on everything that resembled a wall—portraits included.

"OOF! That t-ah-ah-tickles!" She said less-than-gaily, shooing them away but smiling wistfully after them all the same. "Oh ho ho, to be young and in love…"

During their "travels," Harry and Ginny had made a wrong turn at the Entrance hall and accidentally found themselves in the dungeons. Not particularly minding it, Harry began removing Ginny's robes and shirt as he pressed his already bare back against cold stone.

"Eurgh! It's bad enough that you do that while we're all trying to eat breakfast, Potter, but don't 'show off' by coming here!"

"Oh…sorry," Harry turned around to see who was speaking, "MALFOY?"

"In the flesh. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I have some _business_ to attend to," he punctuated, purposely giving Ginny an icy glare.

He retreated into a shadowy passageway and disappeared, leaving the two Gryffindor alone—and half-naked.

They dressed quickly, re-buttoning their shirts only partway and pulling their ties sloppily. Ginny smoothed out her hair and tied it neatly in a bun, trying to fix Harry's stubborn mop of black. She failed on several occasions, and soon gave up.

"Er…Harry? I think we should actually go to the feast now."

"Yeah," Harry said sullenly, "Let's."

* * *

"Blasted…thing…" Pansy Parkinson was trying to detach a rusty, but still sharp, sword from it's owner, a suit of armor. A normal pre-Halloween-feast activity to many, or at least that's how she felt.

Pansy was mad. And when she was mad, the whole world was mad. Draco had promised her the world, after fixing that _damned_ Vanishing Cabinet…but no! He vanished, himself! And left her with what? A pouch of tarnished sickles and a "romantic" I-O-U note. Rubbish!

She had been planning his destruction since the day that he left—without her—having gone through various plots that included several Medieval torture devices, a castration, and numerous brands of leather with Unforgivable Curses to boot.

All too cliché. She had rejected them as soon as she…and/or Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Avery…had thought of them.

But this was good, this was _the_ plan. Pansy was truly a villain, and so she did what all villains do: vocalised her plans.

"Draco Malfoy, I'll get you for this! When the whole school hates you, what are you going to do with your new Firebolt FD Flame (not even released in stores, might I add), your three vaults full of estate galleons, and your mother's Pinkestone diamonds…not to mention all of your little Dark Arts thingies—"

"They're not 'thingies,' Pansy, and here's a tip; if you're plotting against me, try doing it where I _can't_ hear you," Draco swept past her with a snake-like smirk pasted on his face, immediately going back to his dormitory to gouge his eyes out.

_I can't believe I just saw that…and got _jealous_? ME? JEALOUS OF POTTER?_

Another voice popped into his head.

_But the Weaslette is quite the looker, you can't deny that. It's just your poor, sex-deprived—_

It_, nor I, are sex-deprived, thanks! But yes, I suppose you're right,_ Draco concluded, _Then it's high time to formulate a plan: Pop Goes the Weasel, and Happy Goes Draco. _He looked quite pleased for a moment, then frowned, _No, the name's too long. Just 'Catch the Weasel,' then._

He sat on his bed and thought very hard, scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment for a few minutes. Draco had written on half of the sheet when he was interrupted.

" 'Lo, Draco," a baritone voice called out forcedly, "What're you up to?" Blaise Zabini stood at six feet tall, bronze skin and blue-gray eyes shining in the dim light of the dungeons.

"Why the bloody fuck are you talking to me?" Draco spat, standing up and matching Blaise's height.

"Er…because…I've been a real arse, and I just thought it'd be well if we were friends again…" The way Blaise said it sounded more like a question than anything else.

" 'Er' nothing. You _are_ an arse, but that's why I liked you in the first place! This is because of Pansy, am I right?"

"Yeah," the brunette seemed happy to admit it, "it is. Something about lost gold and a broomstick…" Quickly changing the subject, he added, "So, what have you there?"

"Just a little plan," Draco said mischievously, brandishing the parchment. Blaise scanned it with his eyes, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

"Excellent. I think I'll put some money on that, if you please."

"I please. What's the word?"

"Hmmm…" Blaise stroked his chin thoughtfully, "If you don't go through with it, you have to give me your broom and let me have a go at her."

"And if I do…You'll have to shag Pansy—"

"Easy enough."

"And be my personal slave for the rest of the term."

Blaise groaned. "Then let's set a time limit, shall we?"

"Yes. You're betting, so you decide."

"I give you till Christmas."

"No, too short. She's still attached, remember?"

"Okay, fine. I'll give you till Valentine's Day."

"Perfect."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Again, I'm SO, SO SORRY that this took long. I'm writing chapter 6 as we speak, so you should be getting that by the weekend, if not sooner. Please don't hurt me!

**Next time, on Square One**:  
-The beginnings of Blaise and Draco's wager  
-Harry, Ron, and Hermione's reactions to it  
-Pansy's plot taking its course  
-…Much, much more that I cannot think of right now but will definitely do so soon.

**REVIEW…S'il vous plaît (please).**

I really, really, REALLY would appreciate it. Even if it was to reprimand me, or tell me that my story sucks (which I hope it doesn't), I need input.

I still love you!


	5. Twisted Logic

**Author's Note**: Sorry if this chapter sucks. I'm trying to get creative ideas as I write, but everything that comes is out cliché and trite. (Oh…rhyme. Lol.) Also...discouraged by the lack of reviews. I had originally put some horizontal rules between sections, but that didn't show up in this story. OO I'm sorry about that.

**Disclaimer**: No ownage. Etc.

* * *

Chapter Five: Twisted Logic

"Ok team, this is it," said Ron with an unconvincing manner, attempting to mimic Oliver Wood's impassioned speeches. "This is my last year here and…erm…let's make it good?" he squeaked slightly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What my brother, the git, is trying to say is that he wants us to make him proud. Let's stand united as the Gryffindor Quidditch team and fight to win!"

"But we don't have Harry anymore," a nearby voice called out, "how will we win?"

"Never mind that we don't have Harry!" Ginny retorted "We've practiced hard for this and we deserve to beat Ravenclaw now, and win the House Cup later!"

The team echoed Ginny's words with a hollow "yeah" and sluggishly walked out of the locker room into the pitch. The sea of red and gold cheered raucously, but the discouraged team seemed unfazed.

"Well, let's go, then," said Ginny to Madam Hooch, as the 14 players mounted their brooms and kicked off at the starting whistle.

* * *

After a spectacular loss, Ginny was irritated and ready to take a nap before dinner. But not without a shower.

_I smell absolutely disgusting. _She sniffed her arm and shook her head. _I think I'll use the prefect's bathroom_.

Heading up the second floor staircase to the statue of Barnabus the Barmy, she stopped for no one and took no mind to the passing—and sneering—Ravenclaws. Instead, she muttered "clean stockings" to the peculiar-looking, one-eyed wizard and entered the bathroom. She quickly shed her clothes, donned a fleecy towel from an aluminum rack next to the bathtub, and began to fill it with water and bubbles of all shapes and sizes.

After filling the tub, she gingerly stepped inside and let the hot water envelope her body as she recounted the events of match in her head. _It's not the same without Harry_, she thought, sighing, _everyone can feel it. Really, nothing's the same_. Sure, Ginny saw him every day, but not in the same context as she was used to—no more holding hands in the hallway, snogging between classes, or even talking leisurely in the Great Hall or at the Three Broomsticks. "It's like I don't even have a boyfriend anymore," she said aloud, unintentionally.

"You don't have a boyfriend anymore?" drawled a sleek, smooth voice. "Excellent, now I can continue having dirty dreams about you without feeling too badly."

_Oh…bollocks! When did Malfoy get here?_ "Malfoy, what are you doing in here?! Can't you see I'm having a bath?" Ginny said crossly, her face a beet-red color that rivaled only her hair.

"I've been in here for fifteen minutes, Weaselette. You didn't notice?" he snickered, looking at her flushed cheeks. "Not that I minded, of course. I got a pretty good view of your knockers when you were scrubbing your underarms." He knew this would make her go mad.

And sure enough, the sparks began to fly.

"MALFOY, HOW DARE YOU VIOLATE ME LIKE THAT, YOU GREAT PRAT? GET OUT OF HERE NOW, BEFORE I HEX YOU INTO OBLIVION!"

Ginny, sputtering and fuming, pulled a towel on herself while she scrambled out of the bath.

"Hmm, but that's the problem, see? I don't want to get out. And, last time I checked, you were not a prefect, so you shouldn't know the password, let alone be here at all," continued Malfoy, making Ginny angrier than she thought possible. "And why would I deprive myself of such…pleasures, and for free?"

"Malfoy…you little bast—Hang on, you're not a prefect, either. So _you_ shouldn't be here. McGonagall would love to know that you've been skulking around the hallways during lunch, came into the Prefect's bathroom without permission, and have been watching a girl take a bath for the past quarter-hour," she said triumphantly, expecting to see his face fall with anxiety.

"Oh, but you'd have to tell McGonagall how you knew I was here. And you were talking, right? So I could only assume it was directed at me, therefore implying that you knew I was here."

"Ugh, Malfoy, you make me sick," she snapped, and stalked off.

"By the way, Little Red, they were really very nice!" Draco called after her.

Ginny scowled, glaring at him evilly.

* * *

"Malfoy saw you WHERE?" Harry bellowed, sending a few small birds flying out of the tree that he and Ginny were seated under.

"Well, it's not exactly like I _asked_ him to, Harry," Ginny answered irritably, "So don't act as though this is my fault."

"You're right, I'm sorry." He drew a large breath in, and sighed heavily as he exhaled. "It's just been a stressful few weeks; I get worked up about everything." Harry began to pull Ginny toward him, stroking her hair and lightly kissing her forehead.

Ginny pulled away from him quickly and a little harshly. "Harry, I don't know if I can keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"_This_. I mean, never spending any time together, constantly fighting because you're annoyed by your students or by the jobs McGonagall makes you do, and then making up two seconds later because you apologize and we snog. It's not a healthy relationship."

"Gin, please don't. It's true we aren't together that often, but I'll make it up to you."

"When, Harry? When you're marking papers, or searching for Horcruxes, or patrolling hallways? You have no time, Harry, and I don't know if we can 'make it up' to each other at all."

He shook his head and looked at the earth before him, pulling bits of grass and root from the ground and shredding them with his fingers, absentmindedly. "Ginny, please give me another chance. I promise I'll be a better boyfriend. It's just—well—I don't know how to explain it, Gin, I can't handle things anymore."

"I realize you're busy, Harry, I don't want to be wasting your time and mine." Ginny checked her watch and beckoned Harry to leave with her. "It's nearly 7, everyone's probably going to the Great Hall for dinner already."

"7? Er…Ginny…go on without me. I promised some first years that I would help them study for their exam next week," he paused. "I'll be in my classroom, though, if you want to visit after dinner," he said lightly, giving her a small peck and jogging toward the castle.

"And this is exactly what I mean," said Ginny regretfully, to no one in particular. "I suppose I should eat something, then." She walked slowly to the Great Hall, as the sun waned and disappeared behind the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

"Looks like there's trouble in paradise," Blaise Zabini chuckled. He ran a hand through his thick, black hair and smirked at Draco Malfoy, who was lazily sprawled on a bed in their shared dormitory.

Blaise, who was hidden right behind the Harry-Ginny tree during their entire spat, didn't waste a moment in telling Draco the events of that day.

"What are you so happy for, idiot? We're betting against each other, remember?" Draco replied, snarkily.

"Yes, but anything hurting Harry Potter is helping little Blaisey." He sat down on his study desk and smiled dreamily.

"I really wish you would stop referring to yourself as 'little Blaisey.' It's not attractive at all," said Draco nastily, as Blaise shot him a filthy look.

"But you might be right, my sexually-misguided friend. This could be a wonderful little development for me," he added.

Blaise, who looked mock-hurt only seconds before, cocked his head with interest. "What do you have in mind, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco sat up and thought for a few moments, tracing his fingers around his clean-shaven chin. "Hmm, phase one of the plan," he mused. "Friends first."

"Friends? Why the bloody hell would you do that?" Blaise nearly fell off of the chair in surprise.

Draco sniggered and opened his mouth slowly, pausing to grin first. "Trust, my boy, is the key to any relationship. And a good fuck. If we're friends, she'll trust me. And if she trusts me, she'll be vulnerable. Then, I'll have the perfect chance to…er…make my mark, let's say."

Draco was confident. And when Draco was confident, he usually had reason to be. The Weaselette would be putty in his hands, and he wouldn't even have to work for it.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Sorry, again. This was mainly just a filler chapter for me to really focus on the plot structure and what I was going to do about the rather…irregular circumstances. Expect a longer and more elaborate chapter next time, because you deserve that /.

**Next time, on Square One**:

We'll find out if…

-Ginny _did_ visit Harry after dinner, or if she took a little detour

-The beginnings of Draco's plans

-More quidditch! When I figure out how to write about a match properly.

-Why exactly Draco is at Hogwarts (I know, this seems like a plot hole, but it'll turn into something good)

-Harry's students…or maybe more…

Anyway, please review! And thanks for reading.

-Brin


End file.
